Dave's knees shook under him as he dismounted; for one sick, giddy instant the scene swam before his eyes; then he ran toward the house and up the steps. He tried to frame a question, but his lips were stiff with fright. Heedless of those in his path, he forced his way into the house, then down the hall toward an open door, through which he saw a room full of people. From somewhere came the shrill wailing of a woman; the house was full of hushed voices and whisperings. Dave had but one thought. From the depths of his being a voice called Alaire's name until his brain rang with it. A bed was in the room, and around it was gathered a group of white-faced people. With rough hands Law cleared a way for himself, and then stopped, frozen in his tracks. His arms relaxed, his fingers unclenched, a great sigh whistled slowly from his lungs. Before him, booted, spurred, and fully dressed, lay the dead body of Ed Austin. Dave was still staring at the master of Las Palmas when the prosecuting attorney spoke to him. "God! This is terrible, isn't it?" he said. "He must have died instantly." "Who--did it?" "We don't know yet. Benito found him and brought him in. He hasn't been dead an hour." Law ran his eyes over the room, and then asked, sharply, "Where is Mrs. Austin?" He was answered by Benito Gonzales, who had edged closer. "She's not here, senor." "Have you notified her?" Benito shrugged. "There has been no time, it all happened so quickly--" Some one interrupted, and Dave saw that it was the local sheriff--evidently it was he who had waved from the speeding machine a few moments before. "I'm glad you're here, Dave, for you can give me a hand. I'm going to round up these Mexicans right away and find out what they know. Whoever did it hasn't gone far; so you act as my deputy and see what you can learn." When Dave had regained better control of himself he took Benito outdoors and demanded full details of the tragedy. With many lamentations and incoherencies, the range boss told what he knew. Ed had met his death within a half-mile of Las Palmas as he rode home for dinner. Benito, himself on his way to the house, had found the body, still warm, near the edge of the pecan-grove. He had retained enough sense to telephone at once to Jonesville, and then--Benito hardly knew what he had done since then, he was so badly shaken by the tragedy. "What time did it happen?" "It was noon when I came in." Dave consulted his watch, and was surprised to discover that it was now only a few minutes past one. It was evident, therefore, that Benito had indeed lost no time, and that his alarm had met with instant response. "Now tell me, who did it?" Benito flung his hands high. "God knows! Some enemy, of course; but Don Eduardo had many." "Not that sort of enemies. There was nobody who could wish to kill him." "That is as it is." "Haven't you any suspicions?" "No, senor." "You say Mrs. Austin is gone?" "Yes." "Where?" "I don't know."